


That kind of Night

by cucumber_of_doom



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumber_of_doom/pseuds/cucumber_of_doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim always had a thing for Sebastian's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That kind of Night

Sebastian sits at the dining table - right next to the window - the dissembled parts of his favourite rifle laid out before him on a piece of cloth and looks gorgeous in the dim artificial light. It is late, long since dark outside and the shadows play along the muscles and tendons of those well formed arms. Jim can't help but stare across the room from where he lies stretched out on the couch, the tablet in his hand all but forgotten. 

He feels pleasantly loose and warm after two glasses of wine and excessively ogling his lover, especially with the latter wearing a tight, short-sleeved shirt; showing off those gorgeous arms. It is a treat. He knows how strong those arms are, how easily Sebastian can overpower him if he tries and yet they are not the main attraction.

Watching Sebastian clean his guns is a religious experience.

Jim always had a thing for people being confident in their skills and yet it took him meeting Sebastian Moran, dishonorable discharged ex-army sniper, to discover the whole extend of that slowly developing kink. He still remembers that lovely microbiologist at uni, manipulating pipettes and petri-dishes with that slender fingers of his and later fucking Jim in his dorm-room until he nearly passed out in pleasure. Jim used to love those hands, worshiped them, but not so much the young man attached to them, and that was the end of it.

After that there were other things to do, a criminal web to build, some people to threaten, others to kill. No time for anything resembling a stable relationship. And if some of his one-night stands used to possess a pair of nimble pianist-hands, than that was a relatively small vice for a man in his position to have. 

Sebastian pushes the cleaning rod through the barrel another time and Jim _wants_ him.

It is not a new craving, neither rare, and so he does not hesitate to place the tablet on the coffee-table, stand up and walk up behind Sebastian. For a moment he simply stands and admires the man in front of him because he is not drunk enough not to congratulate himself for picking him up from the gutter all this time ago. What a waste it would have been to let this gorgeous man live a boring civilian life. Sebastian needs the thrill as much as he does himself. They make a deadly pair.

Jim slides his hands down Sebastian's bare arms and rests them slightly above his elbows.

„Tiger, I am bored,“ he all but purrs and grips harder at the muscles. Sebastian pauses in his movements, hands hovering over the oil-stained cloth next to the rifle.

„You are distracting me, Jim,“ Sebastian says, voice low and Jim presses warm against his back. 

“Am I, now?” he asks hushed.

“Undeniable.”

Jim leans down and nibbles at Sebastian's ear, varying between licks and soft bites and whispers on:  
“You look good doing that, you know, Tiger? Preparing for someones murder? Bloody fantastic. Makes me want to eat you up alive.”

Sebastian relaxes against the warm body behind him but goes back to cleaning the rifle.

“I have got that job tomorrow. The Finnish guy you want dead? I need to prep my gear or I might fuck up the shot. You wouldn't like that.”

It is a lame excuse, at least in Jim's ears, because he _wants_ and nothing else could be more important, not even something he said himself a few hours prior because that was not _now_.

“As your boss, I give you the evening off. You can finish tomorrow, there is time enough until the hit.”

Sebastian turns his head to look over his shoulder at Jim, pulling his ear free from Jim's teeth in the process.

“So I am free to do whatever I want?” he asks with a smirk. Jim digs his nails into the sniper's skin in response.

“You are free to get me naked and play nice or else,” he growls, somewhat knowing that Sebastian only tries to rile him up with playing at being the rational one. They both know that neither of them is, but Sebastian loves to tease as much as Jim himself. Lucky they are both aware of the fact.

“How irresponsible of you, boss. Keeping me from my work to have some fun.”

Sebastian's voice is low enough to send a delicious shiver down Jim's spine but at the same time makes him want to slap his tiger for being intentionally difficult. He often is, loves to make Jim snap and take what he wants. Today it doesn't work. 

Instead of slapping him Jim steps around the chair and maneuvers himself between Sebastian and the table, one hand extended to lightly squeeze the other man's throat.

“My dutiful tiger. If you bore me, I am gonna turn you into a rug and get a new pet. Never think I could not find a replacement for you. There are dozens of talented ex-army guys out there who would do anything to get into your position,” Jim drawls, staring down at his sniper like he did not want to change place with the rifle on the table and finally, finally, Sebastian gets the idea. 

“Oh, would you really?” Sebastian asks, leaning forward, right into the hand against his Adam's apple. “Simply kill me and move on to someone younger? Someone better and more obedient? Someone who will go down to suck your cock whenever you want?”

His hands slide under the back of Jim's waistband and squeeze. “Because who would fuck you just the way you like it best, magpie?”

Jim feels the sniper's pulse like a steady drumbeat beneath his fingertips. He wants to press down further to make Sebastian choke. He wants to pull Sebastian up to bite his lip until he bleeds.

“That's nothing I could not manage with a good vibrator,” he snarks instead.

“You think so, love?” 

A dry finger brushes over his hole and Jim takes in a shuddering breath. Stupid sexy tiger.

“Because I think you need me to get you off, boss. You could maybe find another sniper who is half as good as me and you could pick up a skilled little fucktoy, but where would be the fun in keeping both things separated? You, dear, would never be satisfied with some harmless little plaything to fuck your tight little hole. And how could you trust him, hm? Trusting someone else not to tell anyone about what an eager little cockslut you are? Do you want to taste my cock, love? Get it all nice and wet?”

The shiver running down Jim's spine is delicious and he leans down until he feels Sebastian's breath against his neck.

“Do you want my cock, babe?” the sniper whispers and the breathy way he asks that question is almost enough to make Jim consider it. But he has a plan.

“I want your hands. Your fingers inside me”, he says instead and Sebastian exhales.

“So it is that kind of night, hm?” he asks with a smirk and pets Jim's arse when the man starts squirming. “It's alright, love. I will give you what you need. Just have a little patience.”

“Fuck patience!”

“Nope.”

Sebastian pulls back his hand and yanks down Jim's trousers and underwear. Jim eagerly kicks them off, trips and only keeps from falling by grabbing Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian laughs, one hand steadying Jim at the waist. 

“Easy there.” 

Sebastian leans over to grab the bottle of oil he used to clean his rifle, because neither of them cares too much about what qualifies as proper lube and what not; as long as no one needs to stand up and fetch the bottle from the bedroom. They should start stashing some more thorough the flat, Jim thinks not for the first time, but somehow they managed until now. Some people would be amazed what could be utilized as lube if one was determined enough.

Sebastian quickly coats the fingers of his right hand while his left pats Jim's bare buttocks.

“It's gonna be easier if you lie down, pumpkin.”

“You are going to regret that nickname.”

“No I won't. Now get onto my lap.”

Jim sneers but lays down with his stomach across the other's lap, arse sticking out. Sebastian's jeans feel rough against his bare skin, only his upper half protected by the shirt he is still wearing and can't be bothered to take off now. He grins when he feels Sebastian's erection poke his belly and wiggles around some. The other groans and swats him.

“Keep still, for fucks sake!”

“Then do something useful!” Jim demands, almost vibrating with impatience.

Lubed up fingers slip between his cheeks, slow and teasing and not nearly enough. One finger starts massaging his hole without dipping in until Jim curses and pinches Sebastian's tight as hard as he can.

Sebastian curses and finally slips two fingers past his tight muscle in a quick movement and damn, the stretch burns and is nearly too much at once but it feels so fucking good.

Jim bites his own forearm when he gets no time to adjust, the fingers slowly moving in and out of him. They find his prostate and Jim lets out a filthy moan, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them Sebastian's left hand is in front of his face, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from it. One look at the long digits and Jim imagines their counterparts pressing deep into his body, making his nerves sing.

His socked feet slip on the fluffy black rug when he leans further forward.

“Come on, babe, suck them,” Sebastian says, a raw edge to his voice.

Jim does. Greedy at first, but Sebastian keeps pulling back his hand until he slows down, now really focusing on each digit. He fucking loves those capable hands. Too bloody gorgeous to ignore.

Sebastian knows how to end a life with the pull of a trigger. He prefers a clean death from a distance but also knows how to gut someone with a switch-blade, heart still beating and lucid when the guts spill out onto some vacant parking-lot. It is the knowledge that sends a shock of liquid fire down Jim's spine every time he watches the other man handle anything potentially deadly – which applies to a lot of things– and maybe, just maybe, Jim thinks, it is not only about competence but also about those wonderfully skilled hands themselves.

They are a thing of beauty, after all, calluses and scars included, because it is the little imperfections that turn something from simply pretty to breathtakingly captivating. And goddamn if the thought of Sebastian pulling the trigger with them doesn't doesn't make his cock twitch.

He then ads a third and the extra stretch is exactly what Jim needs.

“You kill with those fingers,” Jim can't help but moan out loud around the fingers in his mouth. There is drool running down his chin and he doesn't care.

“Gets you all hot and bothered that thought, right? Can you come for me like that, love? From nothing but my fingers up you lovely little arse?”

Jim frees his mouth with a shake of his head, already missing the weight on his tongue.

“Fuck, Seb, touch my cock, I can't come like that, you stupid cunt,” he snarls.

“I am sure you can, you only need to try. If I can kill a man with a crock of a single finger” Jim keens when Sebastian finds his prostate again. “Then I can let you die that little death on three of them.”

“Seb...”

“Hush. Try for me.”

And Jim tries, he does, because Sebastian makes it feel too good not to try, but he knows in the end it will not be enough. 

Having his arse played with turns him into a horny mess every time, but coming from that alone is a trick Jim never managed and so he ruts against the rough fabric of Sebastian's jeans, chasing whatever friction he can get. Because fuck dignity. It is the kind of mindless pleasure he deserves for putting up with a world inhabited by imbeciles every single day of his life and not burning it to ashes.

He bucks his hips, rubbing off on Sebastian's leg while impaling himself deeper on his fingers until his body goes rigid and he comes with a shout.

“Cheater,” Sebastian rasps above him. Jim moans shamelessly while the sniper's fingers milks the last drops out of him. After a while he pulls them out and Jim sighs contentedly.

“I always cheat. It is the reason I keep winning.”

“Good for you I prefer being on the winner's side.”

He basks in the afterglow, still sprawled across Sebastian's lap when he notices the wet spot underneath his belly. 

“When did you come?” Jim asks drowsily, head only held up by Sebastian's arm which he does _not_ snuggle up against. He is the world's only consulting criminal. The Napoleon of crime. Jim Moriarty does not snuggle up to anyone. Except when he does.

“What did you think would happen if you keep writhing on my lap like you did, you little devil?”

“A sniper should have more self-control.”

“You should be the one having more self-control,” Sebastian shoots back. “Squirming on my lap like a bitch in heat, what do you expect? Be glad I did or I might be actually mad at you for not keeping still.”

Jim shrugs as good as he can.

“Get me to bed,” he demands and when he does make no attempt to move Sebastian sights.

“Fine, I will carry you. But you still have to get up for that.”

Jim reluctantly gets to his feet only to plop down again, straddling Sebastian's lap who accepts his fate. He gets his hands beneath Jim's arse, then raises to his feet with a grunt while Jim clings to him like an octopus, arms and legs clamped around his back. Sebastian curses under his breath while making his way out of the livingroom, through the hallway and into the master bedroom where he deposits Jim onto the unmade bed. He stretches languidly, watching Sebastian disappear into the bathroom.

The other comes back a few minutes later, naked and cleaned up, carrying a damp washcloth. Jim sits up to let Sebastian unbutton and take off his shirt, then lies back down, sated and already half asleep when he cleans the half dried come from his legs with the cloth before setting it aside and sliding into bed next to him.

“You should fist me,” Jim mumbles sleepily.

“Not today, love. As much as I love the idea of you thinking of me with every move: you have work to do tomorrow. So no fists up your lovely, lovely arse tonight. Take off a day from work and we can talk again.”

Jim doesn't answer. He is already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see me ramble about writing and a lot of random blogging, visit my [tumblr](http://cucumber-of-doom.tumblr.com/).


End file.
